


Walking the Grey Line

by Sulfuric_animus



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Organized Crime, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:38:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulfuric_animus/pseuds/Sulfuric_animus
Summary: Alexander Hamilton was a certified genius. Anyone who has met him could attest to that, so why is this Summa Cum Laude Columbia graduate on the floor of a random New York bank with a backpack filled with money?





	Walking the Grey Line

> Alexander Hamilton was a lot of things. Anyone who ever met him could say without hesitation that he was a certified genius, a modern-day polymath who seemed to know everything that had and would happen, statistics and probabilities all swarming in his head, almost always in tune to perfection. He was the living embodiment of the American Dream, an immigrant born in the Caribbean, and at age fourteen he had gotten a job with a trade company, in no time at all he had moved through the ranks to become the company's main accountant, labor laws be damned. He wrote about a hurricane that had torn through his small village and himself coming out as one of the handful of survivors. He published it on his private blog, which had later gained enough traction for a GoFundMe to be made, getting him on a plane heading to New York. A few hours in a crowded airport terminal later and Alexander was in a grubby coach seat, sandwiched by an excitable tourist and a tired mother swaddling her baby. So why is this Summa Cum Laude Columbia graduate on the floor of a random New York bank with a backpack filled with money? 
> 
> It was a simple plan, at least to him it was. The idea took less than a week to take form, foolproof with contingency plans for every situation. It should have been a quick in and out that left no evidence behind, but  _ of course  _ some jackasses with nothing to do on a wednesday afternoon would decide to rob the place he  _ just _ burgled and was seconds away from leaving. There wasn’t much he could do anyway, the building was full and there was no doubt that the police were already on their way. There was no money to be handed over, even if the tellers had wanted to give it. He was stuck. Well, any  _ lesser _ person would be stuck. Alexander Hamilton was a man used to having the odds stacked against him, this time being no different. 
> 
> Alexander surveyed the area around him, he was laying face down with four other hostages on his right side where he was squeezed against a wall near the exit. There were two marble pillars each around ten feet in front and behind him and with a quick glance to see if any of the men were watching, began to slowly crawl behind one. It was a tight squeeze, if he had been any bigger he wouldn’t have fit, but being a 5’4 scrawny guy came with it’s perks sometimes-- bank robbery included in that list. Alexander could feel his heart beating through his ribs, the exit was now not a stone throw away, the automatic sliding door beckoning him closer. He waited, once in awhile a masked man would come close enough for the sensors to be triggered. There were only three of them currently in the building so it took around two minutes for Alexander to find an opening. Eventually there was no one looking and the path between the door and his position was clear. He ran for it, time seemed to slow down around him. Alexander heard a gasp from over his shoulder and when he looked, was met with hazel eyes surrounded by a black face mask. Hamilton kept the contact as he ran, brought his eyes down to his bag then back up as if to say to them  _ look at this _ , then, because he had no restraint, winked at them. He sprinted out, bag filled with dough and his hair fluttered out behind him. 
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Alexander Hamilton was not usually someone who robbed banks. Well, by “not usually” meant that, yes he did have a job, not that that was a one-time thing-- an upstanding member of society he was not. His day job was being a freelance ghostwriter for whoever needed him, and while it paid well, the job flow was not always steady and if he got behind on rent, where else would he go to acquire a large sum of money in a small amount of time than the bank? So what if it was  _ technically  _ by all accounts illegal? A guy has to live somehow, and the bank robbery that he had been caught up in had only served to help him.
> 
> He hadn’t been caught, neither had any of the robbers, but the crime had been blamed on them, in the eye of the law Alexander Hamilton had done nothing wrong. Even further, according to public records, he hadn’t even  _ been there _ that day, so Alexander had put the whole situation behind him. 
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Until now, that is. 
> 
> Hamilton would recognize those eyes anywhere, this time framed by wild, unkempt hair stuffed underneath a baseball cap and freckles that covered his face like constellations on a clear night. Who would have thought that he would find his bank robber behind the counter of a downtown coffeehouse? And if his barista’s- John, his name tag supplied- eyes were telling the truth, Alexander was recognized too.
> 
> “Your...um your order sir?” Even his  _ voice _ was cute, stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out.
> 
> “Your largest coffee. No cream or sugar, three shots please” He spoke quickly
> 
> “Are.. are you sure?” Alexander almost let out a laugh at the hesitation in his baristas voice.
> 
> “You’re right. Make it four” with a vaguely frightened look on his face John typed in his order into a computer.
> 
> “Right… that’ll be three-fifteen. And your name?” He met Alexander's eyes again 
> 
> “Hamilton” was the curt reply. A knowing smile crawling onto Alexander’s face. As he waited for his order to finish, Hamilton looked at the other workers behind the counter. There was an incredibly tall person manning the espresso machine, familiar in shape and body. They wore a pastel-pink crop top with the word “Baby” emblazoned across the front in bold font and high rise baby blue jeans. Their hair was pulled into a poof of a ponytail that was tucked beneath a plain pink cap and an easy going smile graced their lips. Next to them was an equally tall bear of a man, a brown beanie on his head and a grey button up rolled to his elbows, black jeans clinging to tree trunk thighs, his thick hands working delicately to create a steaming tea. 
> 
> Alex’s order was called quickly, he stood up with creaky joints and sauntered over. As he reached out for it, he instead made to grab his baristas wrist instead.
> 
> Subtly leaning up a bit, he whispered into John’s ear,
> 
> “Wanna share why some nice people like you three would rob a bank?” Alexander carefully stepped back to survey his face. John had gone ghost white looking at him, his face drained of all color making his freckles stand out even more in contrast. 
> 
> Hamilton grabbed his coffee and smiled, stepping back he winked once more, referencing the time at the bank.
> 
> “I'll wait until you have a break, we can talk all about it.” He turned around without waiting for a response and plopped himself down into an abandoned table in the corner of the cafe, took out his old laptop and continued to write a speech for some mayor-elect in Tennessee. 
> 
> He was on page nineteen before anyone sat down to talk to him and it wasn’t John. It was the one in the crop top. Now that they were facing him, Alexander could make out more of their features, they had well kept facial hair that framed a thick set of lips, coated in a gentle layer of gloss and deep-set brown eyes that had laugh lines permanently embedded into the corners. They leaned forward and opened their mouth;
> 
> “Hello, it seems that you mistook my friend for someone else. Apparently, you think him a bank robber? I just wanted to clear the matter up between the two of you, be sure that there are no misunderstandings.” The worker spoke with a voice that had remnants of a French accent, smiling placatingly, trying to mollify any doubts.
> 
> “So, are you meaning to tell me that you and two others  _ didn’t  _ rob a Generations Bank last month on 59 Washington Street? Because I was  _ so sure _ that it was you three. Same builds, same movement patterns. And another thing, why didn’t your friend come and talk to me himself? Was he nervous? You seem pretty silver-tongued so I assume that you are the one to usually do the talking but I know what I saw and what I saw was  _ him _ ,” He spoke in a rush, not stopping to take a breath and punctuating his sentence with a gesture towards a distressed looking John that was partially hiding between the baked goods display and his mountainous coworker, ”but please, if I’m wrong on any of these accounts, feel free to correct me.” Alexander ended his rant with a beaming smile and made to get up.
> 
> “Merde. Êtes-vous vraiment si intelligent que vous l'avez compris si rapidement? Que se passe-t-il” It was obvious that Lafayette didn’t expect a response from him, but Alexander was having too much fun to stop now.
> 
> “Ce n'est pas de ma faute que vous l'avez rendu si facile. Travaillez à votre discrétion. Connaître l'autre joueur avant de commencer le jeu.” And with that, Hamilton swung his bag over his shoulder, laptop in one hand and a coffee in another, and sauntered out into the cold winter air. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> “Merde. Êtes-vous vraiment si intelligent que vous l'avez compris si rapidement? Que se passe-t-il// Shit. Are you really so smart that you understood it so quickly? What is going on  
> Ce n'est pas d'ma faute que vous l'avez rendu si facile. Travaillez à votre discrétion. Connaître l'autre joueur avant de commencer le jeu//It was not my fault that you made it so easy. Work at your discretion. Know the other player before starting the game  
> \---------------------------  
> Thank you for reading! This is my first work in the Hamilton fandom so comments are welcome, let me know that you want more and I'll try my best to deliver! Along with that, I'm in need of a beta so if you want to reach me then go to my tumblr, I'm sulfuric-animus so come and give me a text!


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